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Thursday, 9 April 2015

Grin

By
Aline-Mwezi Niyonsenga

Amid the reeds we watched him strap on his belt, drooping
with dagger sheaths, and swing his large sword sheath over one shoulder. It’s
when he also lifted an arrow quiver that I made the mistake of letting out a
low whistle, promptly leaping out of my hiding place to avoid the fatal thud of
an arrow in the muck. Lifting my arms up, I appealed to him with my eyes, wide
with genuine fear and the regret of thinking it would be fun to observe him for
a while.

“Child spies,” he spat.

He aimed his arrow at the spot I’d erupted from.

“Spies,” he repeated.

Reluctantly, Jenya stood as well, shooting me a glare of
scathing reproach before hardening its defiance in the face of the mercenary.

“Who sent you?” He asked.

“Ourselves,” I answered.

Jenya made the faintest of sounds, as if she was being
strangled. Her silent scream strummed in my ear. Idiot!

“Right,” the man answered cautiously. Slinging his bow over
his other shoulder (so many weapons), he unsheathed a knife and took one step
forward, then paused.

“They don’t care about you, do they?” He muttered at
length.

“Our parents? They-”

Jenya coughed, a signal that I should stop.

The man glanced from Jenya to me and back again, raising an
eyebrow.

“Alright, who’s first?” He asked.

Jenya stiffened, making that faint strangled yelp again. My
mouth took this as a chance to test its limits.

“I am! My name is Grin and my friend Jenya and I were
venturing into disputed land because I remembered that there was this
incredible spring my brother told me about when-”

“-you ran into me and decided to hide?” The mercenary asked
with a slight smirk.

“Exactly!” I exclaimed. “And I was wondering just now how
you could carry so much on you-”

“That’s enough. Thanks,” the mercenary dismissed. He lifted
an eyebrow at Jenya, “Anything to add?”

“Is that so?” The hint of a smile played on the man’s face
but it quickly hardened. “Take me to this spring.”

Taking care not to turn my back on him with arms still up,
I led him crabwise, asking about his weapons on the way but never getting
anything more than a nod and a vague statement.

“How do you carry so much?”

“Yes, they train you.”

“Which one is your favourite?”

“Yes, they’re all useful.”

“Are they heavy?”

“Yes, it depends.”

“Yes?”

“And no.”

I shot a confused glance at Jenya but she turned away. The
mercenary’s knife loomed closer in warning.

Finally, we parted tall reeds to emerge onto a smooth slab
overlooking a large spring, as clear as it was dark. All around it a cascading
bank made of jutting slabs of rock and the naked roots of amphibious trees reached
into the water. From our vantage point as well as tree branches, we could swing
and dive into the depths, emerging when we only had air enough to giggle
elatedly at the feat. Hoping to convey this glee, I grinned at the mercenary, “Isn’t
it great?”

He lunged with his knife. I was surprised, but quick to
slip along the length of his arm and guide it towards the edge while Jenya slunk
behind him and kicked him into the water. He landed with a resounding splash,
followed by the twittering of startled birds and the whizzing of a dozen arrows
amid their rustling feathers. I watched to see how long the bubbles would take
to disappear.